


The Challenge

by Savoytruffle



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Banter, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-07
Updated: 2010-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savoytruffle/pseuds/Savoytruffle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aliens don't so much 'make them do it,' as serve as the catalyst for a seemingly innocent conversation, in which Bones doesn't so much <i>throw down</i> the gauntlet as kind of drop it, without really noticing. Jim doesn't so much <i>notice</i> as set out to prove beyond any doubt that he would be the most awesome Dom ever. You know, if he wanted to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Challenge

**Author's Note:**

> So first [](http://blue-jack.livejournal.com/profile)[**blue_jack**](http://blue-jack.livejournal.com/) told me that she's never really believed Kirk/McCoy BDSM in regular (not mirrror!verse) ST. _Then_ she said she didn't know if she could read Kirk/McCoy BDSM unless Kirk was the top. Somehow I took this as a personal challenge to write a believable Kirk/McCoy, D/s type of fic in the regular ST universe in which Jim is the Dom. Which turned out, in fact, to be a challenge. I have [](http://cordelianne.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://cordelianne.livejournal.com/)**cordelianne** to thank for coming up with a premise I could work with and many others for encouragement along the way. Unbeta'd.

For a long moment after they materialize in the transporter room, the away team just stands on the pad, blinking, not making eye contact.

Jim finally breaks the silence. “Well, that was…”

“Fascinating,” Spock says.

“Um, not exactly the word I was going for…”

“Different,” Uhura says.

“Well, sure,” Jim says, “obviously, but I was thinking a little more like…”

“Completely fucking ridiculous?” Leonard suggests.

“Seriously, Bones?” Jim turns to shake his head at Leonard. “Do I need put you down for a refresher course in Cross-Cultural Sensitivity, _Doctor_?”

“Yes,” Spock says.

Leonard glares at them both. “Just calling like I see it, _Captain_.”

“ _Intense_ ,” Jim says. “I was going to say ‘intense.’”

Leonard snorts. “That’s one way of putting it.”

 

 

 

“It kind of sticks with you, doesn’t it?”

Leonard looks over from his place on the couch towards the desk, sees Jim looking up from his report.

“Little bit,” Leonard agrees. By which he means that the images of scantily-clad, silver-tinged alien submissives, draped in elaborate decorative chains and kneeling on the floor at their masters’ sides in between the performance of very public sexual favors over the course of the longest ceremonial banquet ever is pretty much burned into his retinas.

“Food was pretty good, though,” Jim notes.

“Suppose so.” If you could focus on your plate long enough to taste it. “Sort of stingy with the alcohol, if you ask me.” Heavier drinking had definitely been called for.

“Well, at least they didn’t expect us to observe their customs during the negotiations.”

“Thank god,” Leonard mutters. He pictures a half-naked Jim kneeling at his feet – which, okay, not so unusual – but the idea of the chains and the audience and the ritual of it all makes him uncomfortable.

Jim nods. “Would have done a number on your knees, old man.”

“Yeah,” Leonard says, then blinks. “Wait a minute? _My_ knees?”

“Um, yeah,” Jim says. “I mean – hello? Captain, here.”

“Out there, sure,” Leonard says. “But here?” He waves a hand in the general direction of the bed. “I mean, come on, who are you kidding?”

“So, what? You think _you’re_ in charge? Of our sex life?”

“Of course not,” Leonard says. “No one is in charge.”

“Right,” Jim says. “I mean, it’s totally like fifty-fifty.”

“Fifty-fifty? You think we’re only equal as long as we take turns taking it up the ass? What is this – the twenty-first century?” Leonard snorts. “And besides, it’s totally sixty-forty.”

“No way,” Jim says. He pauses and frowns. “Really?”

Leonard shrugs. “Hate to break it to you, darlin’, but you’re a bit of a cock slut.”

“Says you.”

“Says the noises that come out of your mouth when I’m fucking you through the mattress.”

“Oh, like you’re Mister Quiet-and-Reserved.” Jim’s best defense has always been a good offense.

“Never said I was,” Leonard admits easily. “Just saying – you’re not exactly cut out to be a dominant.”

In retrospect, Leonard should have recognized the look that comes into Jim’s eyes. “I would be an _awesome_ Dom.”

Leonard chuckles. “Get real, Jim. You’re a hell of a captain, a damn good strategist, and one of the best tacticians in the fleet – when you don’t have your head up your ass – but in bed? You’re the most straightforward, easygoing person I’ve ever met. It’s not a bad thing. Elaborate bondage and discipline scenes just aren’t your style.”

In retrospect, Jim’s sudden silence should have been the second sign.

The fastest way to get Jim Kirk to do something is to tell him he can’t.

 

 

 

The first communication arrives on Leonard’s PADD a little after lunch – which he took with Jim in the mess, as usual.

 

 _Dr. McCoy,_ it reads, _Please report to the Captain’s Ready Room after Alpha shift at your earliest convenience. There are some matters of professional conduct to discuss. Thank you, James T. Kirk, Captain._

Leonard’s eyes widen, nostrils flaring and hand squeezing tighter on the PADD as he rereads the message. What the hell is Jim playing at? _Matters of professional conduct_ , his ass. As far as Leonard’s concerned, he’s probably the _most_ professional – not to mention _level-headed_ – officer to be _found_ on this floating tin can full of overgrown adolescent whiz kids and misfit geniuses.

(Well, except for Lieutenant Uhura. Damn fine woman, right there. Good head on her shoulders.)

And, anyway, if Jim has a problem with Leonard’s _conduct_ , he can damn well bring it up over dinner, the way they usually do. No matter how difficult it sometimes gets to balance the personal and professional in their relationship, they’ve never gone for something so artificial as a complete separation of the two.

Leonard sets the PADD down on the desk with slightly more force than strictly necessary and stands up, his first impulse being to storm onto the bridge and tell Jim exactly what he can do with his formal fucking summons.

About halfway across his office, it occurs to Leonard that that course of action might not send the right message – you know, about his consummate professionalism. He turns around, sits back down and, as any diligent Chief Medical Officer would do, makes plans for _the captain’s_ next physical.

Huh, looks like he’s overdue for several booster hypos. Imagine that.

 

 

 

Leonard makes it to the bridge about five minutes after the end of Alpha shift. Strolling up to the captain’s chair, he refrains – with effort – from glaring down at Jim . “You wanted to see me, _Captain_?”

“Doctor McCoy,” Jim says, looking far too damn pleased with himself, “thank you for being so prompt. I’m just wrapping a few things up here. Why don’t you go wait in my Ready Room? I’ll be right with you.”

Their eyes hold for a long moment, the expression on Jim’s face perfectly serene. Meanwhile, Leonard’s pretty sure that if he bites his tongue any harder, he’ll taste blood. He forces himself to look away first and to turn and walk calmly to the Ready Room, soothing himself with the knowledge that once Jim gets his (damn fine) ass in the room and the door shuts behind him, Leonard will be free to kick that ass into next week, without witnesses.

The first thing Leonard sees when he enters the room is a small, folded paper card sitting on the otherwise pristine top of Jim’s desk. _Bones_ is handwritten across the front. Leonard picks it up and opens it to read the writing inside.

_Your safeword is: dilithium. If you don’t want to do this, leave now and I’ll see you back in our quarters._

_— J_

Leonard refolds the card and slips it into his pocket. He considers walking out and heading back to quarters.

It’s not that he can’t see the appeal of a little sexual power play, but something about these sorts of games with their clichéd scenarios and stilted scripts has always struck him as a little too… _silly_ to actually be sexy.

Still, Jim’s obviously put a lot thought into Leonard’s (inadvertent) challenge – at least over the last twenty hours or so – and Leonard knows Jim’ll be disappointed if he doesn’t get to see his plan through.

Looking back at the closed door leading to the bridge, Leonard decides he can probably play along for an hour or so if it keeps Jim happy. He’s the one who’s gotta live with the kid, after all.

No sooner has Leonard settled into the chair in front of Jim’s desk, than he hears the door hiss open and shut behind him.

“Doctor McCoy,” Jim says. “Thank you for waiting.”

Leonard looks over his shoulder. “Captain.”

Jim hovers near the door, looking expectant. “I believe it’s customary to stand when your C.O. enters the room.”

Leonard rolls his eyes. “Jim…”

Jim crosses his arms over his chest and waits.

Leonard sighs and pushes himself up out of the chair to stand _almost_ at attention. “Sorry about that.”

Jim raises an eyebrow and waits some more.

“Captain,” Leonard adds at last.

Jim nods and finally makes his way across the room and behind the desk. “Why don’t you stay standing,” Jim suggests as he takes his own seat.

Leonard shifts his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly finding himself oddly ill-at-ease as Jim leans back in his chair and surveys Leonard, weighing him with his gaze.

“I see you’ve been keeping yourself in shape, Doctor.”

It’s not like it’s the first inappropriate thing Jim’s ever said to him in a work context…

And yet.

It sends shivers through Leonard’s body, pooling at the base of his spine.

Leonard feels objectified.

In a surprisingly pleasant way.

“Thank you, Captain.”

“And, of course,” Jim continues, “medically speaking, your job performance continues to be beyond reproach.”

Leonard can’t help but smile.

“Yes, Mister McCoy, we all know you’re an excellent physician.” Jim kicks his feet up onto the desk. “Your attitude, however…. Well, let’s just say it leaves a lot to be desired.”

Leonard knows it’s a game, but it’s hard to resist the urge to defend himself. “Jim, you know I—”

“It’s ‘Captain,’” Jim says, cutting him off, “and when I want you to speak, McCoy, I’ll let you know.”

Leonard swallows his protest and nods.

“Say, ‘Yes, sir,’” Jim says.

“Yes, sir,” Leonard says.

He feels like an idiot.

Except for the part where he doesn’t.

Jim smirks. “Now, personally, I can handle a little insubordination. Keeps things interesting.” He lets the smirk drop. “As captain, however, it would be irresponsible of me to allow _any_ crew member to put our away missions at risk.”

“ _Risk_?” Leonard forgets that he’s supposed to be staying silent. “Jim, when I have _ever_ put an—?”

Jim clears his throat. Loudly.

Leonard takes a deep breath and tells himself it’s only a game.

“Are you done?” Jim asks.

Leonard nods.

Jim waits.

“Yes, sir,” Leonard says.

“I should punish you for that,” Jim notes, perfectly casual.

The words go straight to Leonard’s cock.

It’s possible that Leonard underestimated Jim’s dominant potential.

You know, just maybe.

“As I was saying,” Jim continues, as if threatening to punish people in his Ready Room is an everyday occurrence, “being the captain, it’s my job to make sure none of my crew put our away missions at risk. And that means making sure that I identify possible risks _before_ they become actual risks – and that I care of them.” Jim kicks his feet off of the desk and places his hands on the desk, leans forward. “As a doctor, I’m sure you can understand this approach. What is it they call that again? The term is slipping my mind.”

Nothing ever slips Jim’s mind.

“Preventative medicine,” Leonard says.

Jim nods. “That’s the one. So let’s just think of this as preventative medicine.” He smiles. “Now how about you take off your shirt, Doctor McCoy?”

Leonard can’t help but snort at that one. “Oh, please, Jim. What could taking off my shirt _possibly_ have to do with—?”

“I think you mean, ‘Oh, please, _Captain_ ,’” Jim says, standing up. “And if you feel the need to say that again later, by the way, you should totally feel free. As often as you want.”

“Gee,” Leonard says, “thanks.”

Jim shakes his head as he rounds the desk. “So here’s a question: Has it ever even _occurred_ to you _not_ to make every snarky comment that comes into your head?”

“I don’t make _half_ the snarky comments that come into my head.”

“The sad thing is that I really believe that.” Jim settles himself against the front of the desk, gripping its edge lightly on either side of his hips. There’s less than two feet of space between them. “Now take off your shirt.”

“Why?”

“Because I told you to.”

“That’s the best you can come up with?”

“Of course not,” Jim says, looking straight into Leonard’s eyes. “But it’s the only reason you need.”

Leonard means to argue with this, but finds himself taking off his medical blue instead.

“Good,” Jim says. “And maybe we could get back to the ‘Yes, sir.’ Let’s try it. I say: Now lose the undershirt. And you say…?”

“Yes, sir,” Leonard answers, before pulling the black shirt off as well, leaving his torso bare.

He resists the urge to cross his arms over his chest. It’s not like there’s anything Jim hasn’t seen before.

And yet this feels different.

Leonard’s not always a huge fan of different.

It’s growing on him today.

“So point number one,” Jim is saying. “The thing about cross-cultural sensitivity is that it helps to start from a certain place of vulnerability. Too much ego, too much arrogance, and you end up closing yourself off from the possibilities.”

Leonard crosses his arms over his chest. “ _You’re_ lecturing _me_ about arrogance?”

“I’ll need you to keep your arms by your sides, Doctor,” Jim says.

Leonard forces his arms back down, shooting a glare in Jim’s direction.

“What was that?” Jim asks, lifting a hand to cup his own ear.

Leonard wants to slap the hand away. “Yes, sir,” he mutters.

“It’s not so much a lecture,” Jim explains, “as an interactive demonstration. Is it working, McCoy? Do you feel vulnerable?”

Leonard declines to answer.

Jim licks his lips. “Open your pants,” he says, “but leave them on.”

Leonard’s fingers feel like foreign objects floating at the end of his arms. They fumble with the fastenings.

“Damn it,” he whispers, but he finally succeeds.

He must have missed Jim pushing off the desk, but suddenly he’s right there, taking one of Leonard’s hands in each of his own, running his thumbs over Leonard’s second knuckles.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a surgeon?” Jim asks.

Leonard can’t speak. It’s the first time Jim’s touched him since he entered the room. Usually Jim can’t keep his hands off Leonard and he guesses he’s gotten used it. Now, just ten minutes without it, and a brush of knuckles is threatening to set him on fire.

“How about now?” Jim asks. “Feeling vulnerable yet?”

Witty comebacks, sharp denials – the words float just beyond Leonard’s reach.

Jim drops Leonard’s hands, reaches into Leonard’s pants, into Leonard’s boxers, and pulls out his cock. Leonard looks down at himself – hard and flushed.

“What about now?” Jim asks, running a light finger up and down Leonard’s length.

Leonard finds words. Two of them.

“Yes, sir.”

Jim nods in satisfaction and reaches into his pocket. “Point number two,” he says. “Never underestimate the importance of patience.” The cock ring snaps around Leonard’s dick before he can even identify the object for what it is. “And restraint.”

“Jim…” Leonard says.

“Captain,” Jim corrects.

“Captain…” Leonard whispers. He’s forgotten if there was more to say.

Jim steps back to lean against the desk once more, surveying Leonard’s state with obvious satisfaction. “Point number three: the exchange of… _ideas_. Never let talking get in the way of listening – on your knees, now, there’s a good doctor – and always keep an eye out for opportunities to engage in _non_ -verbal forms of communication.”

Leonard shifts a bit, trying to make his kneeling more comfortable. He looks up as Jim reaches down to push the hair back off Leonard’s forehead.

“I think I like you on your knees, Doctor. I’m sure you know what to do now.”

Leonard does.

Jim keeps his hands on the desk for a minute or two, letting Leonard work with lips and tongue.

“Gotta say, Doctor, you seem to have a certain natural talent for…diplomacy.” Jim reaches out to thread his fingers through Leonard’s hair. “Of course, the important thing to recognize in any negotiation is when it’s time to give…” his grip tightens until Leonard feels the tingling in his scalp “...and when it’s better to just let go and take it.”

Leonard breathes in through his nose, relaxes his throat and lets Jim fuck his face. His world blurs and then focuses anew, narrows to six simple points – each of his knees against the floor, each of Jim’s hands on his hair, the hard cock between his legs and the one in his mouth.

He’s in the moment.

Completely.

His senses are filled with Jim.

With Captain Kirk.

“Fuck,” Leonard hears from above, “not yet.”

But the words aren’t for him.

The hands leave his hair. His mouth is empty.

Leonard flexes his jaw, runs his tongue over his lips.

“Stand up, Doctor McCoy.”

He wants to, but isn’t sure he can. A hand wraps around his upper arm, lifting, steadying.

Grounding, guiding.

“Over the desk, now…. There, that’s good.”

Warm, dry fingertips settle at his waist, pushing, shoving fabric down over his hips.

The surface is smooth and cool beneath his bare torso, against his cheek. A hot hand runs down his back. Once, twice. A third time.

“Point…”

The voice trails off for a moment as slick fingers work their way inside of him. Leonard presses back against them, urging them deeper.

“Oh, god,” Leonard groans.

“You can just call me ‘Captain.’”

Leonard means to laugh, but it comes out more like a sob.

“ _Please_ , Captain.”

“Shit…” The word is whispered, with a note of awe. The voice steadies…mostly. “Point number four…”

The fingers withdraw, hands settle on Leonard’s hips. The first thrust is perfect. Slow and relentless. The uncomfortable fullness, the pleasant burn.

“Oh please, Captain,” Leonard grunts.

The fingertips tighten on his hips. Another thrust. He hears a choked laugh. “Um, maybe you _shouldn’t_ keep saying that. I don’t think I’m gonna last very—”

“Oh god, Captain, please, Captain, harder… _Captain_.”

Jim manages another two or three thrusts before tensing behind Leonard, then half-collapsing over him.

“Damn it, Bones,” Jim grumbles. “You did that on purpose.”

“I was in the moment,” Leonard says.

“Whatever.”

Long seconds pass in heavy breathing.

“Hey, _Captain_?”

“Hmm?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Huh?”

Leonard finds one of Jim’s hands and carefully escorts it to Leonard’s dick.

“Shit,” Jim says. “Sorry.”

He stands, pulling Leonard up with him, wrapping his left arm around Leonard’s waist and his right hand around Leonard’s cock. He holds Leonard against his chest as he unsnaps the cock ring and jerks Leonard off with quick, wonderful strokes.

Leonard comes with a long and heartfelt groan.

They end up sprawled together on the floor – Leonard half-naked, Jim mostly dressed – backs against Jim’s desk, legs akimbo.

“Jim, you don’t _really_ think that I—?”

“Bones,” Jim says with utter conviction, “ _no one_ has more respect for life – in any and all of its forms – than you do. And that’s all I ever need to know.”

Leonard feels something ease in his chest. “Okay.”

He reaches out, absently rubbing at a sore knee.

Jim heaves a theatrical sigh. “Guess I’m just not cut out to be a Dom.”

“Shut up,” Leonard says.

“Planning, building a scene…” Jim shrugs. “Just not my style.”

Leonard rolls his eyes. “Well,” he says, “you never did make it to point four.”

“I _totally_ made it to point four.” Jim smirks. “And believe me, it _really_ sunk in for you.”

Leonard snorts. “Sure it did.”

Jim clears his throat. “Point four: Be open to – and learn to enjoy – new experiences.”

Leonard _does_ consider denying it.

On principle.

“Fine,” he mutters instead. “You win.”

“I am _made_ of win.”

Leonard sighs and turns his head to hide a smile.

 

 

_Fin._


End file.
